


The Beginnings of Kinda Shitty Fatherhood

by Ferith12



Series: The Games of Soldiers [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Implied/Refferenced Child Trafficking, Mentioned STDs, Politics, Uh..., i guess, yeah that, you know that thing where Victors become the Capitol's fuck-toys?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27513307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferith12/pseuds/Ferith12
Summary: “I want you to adopt a kid,” the governor said.
Series: The Games of Soldiers [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641721
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Germania's name is just Germania, because I can't be bothered.

“Ah, Germania Beilschmidt,” the governor said, “I have a job for you.”

“A job?” Germania asked.

“Yes, my boy, a job, a purpose. You’ve been needing one of those, haven’t you?”

Germania hated how much the governor knew. He hated being watched and fawned over, traded and broken and built up again as a plaything for the Capitol and One politics.

He shrugged his shoulders inelegantly.

“What’s the job?” he said.

“I want you to adopt a kid,” the governor said. Oh fuck. It was almost enough to make Germania feel panicky. He was not cut out to be a father.

“You found one of my bastards then?” he asked. It was an inevitability, more of less. So many of the Capitol girls refused to let him use protection. The prospect of STDs would have terrified him a little if he didn’t half-hope he would contract some form of terrible venereal disease. The press would just love that. Worst case scenario he’d die, best case, it’d just make him unfuckable. 

The governor chuckled. “No,” he said, breaking Germania out of an almost-daydream of wasting away in peace. “I want you to adopt an orphan.”

“I’m not exactly father material,” Germania pointed out what should be obvious.

“I’m not asking,” The governor said, “And besides, I’m not telling you to actually raise the kid. This is recruitment. Do you know how long it’s been since One won one of the Games?”

“Ten years,” Germania said dully.

“Exactly! Ten years. That’s an embarrassment. Two has won four times and Four has won twice in that time. Do you know why that is?”

Germania shrugged.

“Optics,” the governor said, “We just aren’t popular. If the Capitol wants the top dog they root for Two, if they want a good, old fashioned country kid who actually has a chance unlike the rest of the rabble, they root for Four. Part of the appeal of the Games for the Capitol is a good rags-to-riches story, and we’re just too well-off these days to make that compelling for them. What we need is an underdog, a good sob story. There’s this orphanage down in the south where the owner’s embezzling ninety percent of the funds. The kids there are sure to be living in as much squalor and deprivation as any brat from Twelve. I want you to go down there and pick one out to be our next Victor. I want them raised to be a fighting machine, no family, no prior commitments. They say a little starvation early in life prepares you for the Games, so that’ll just be a bonus. You don’t need to take full responsibility, just drop him off at the school. Call it a group effort.”

Germania thought, “If you know this guy is embezzling and starving children, why aren’t you doing anything about it?” He thought, “You know that the idea that malnutrition in early stages of childhood development is a good thing in any way, shape, or form is really stupid, right?” But of course he didn’t say any of that. He said, “How far is the orphanage? Do I get a car?”

“No,” the governor said, “Officially this is just a spontaneous choice on your part, no government involvement. It should only take you about a day to walk. Here’s a map, you’ll go tomorrow.”

Germania sighed and took the map.


	2. How to Fight your Way to Stardom

There was a creepy dude staring at Topaz.

There was a tall, long-haired stranger and he was _staring_ at _Topaz._

His eyes were on her legs when she walked, and on her arms when she picked up baby Sparkles and handed him off to Sheen to keep him out of the way (away from danger). His eyes were generally _all over her body_ , like he wanted to take it apart and examine it. (Gilbert stole a book once that talked about something called _dissection_ which is where you cut people open for science. The creepy dude looked like maybe he wanted to cut Topaz open.)

Gilbert was only seven, and he didn’t exactly _know_ what happened to girls when they got adopted by creepy guys who stared at them (except that the man in charge of the orphanage got money for it) but he knew that it was _bad._

From the moment the creepy man had appeared, Topaz had made sure she was always the one most directly in his line of sight. She was the oldest and the strongest, and she thought it was her fob to take care of everyone.

Gilbert thought that wasn’t fair. He thought, “if Topaz gets taken away, who will tell us stories and sneak extra food for us from the town?” The next oldest was Jasper, and he was only ten and way dumber than Gilbert.

Gilbert thought maybe Topaz shouldn’t have to protect everyone all the time. That someone should protect her too sometimes. Especially from creepy dudes.

The creepy dude started _talking to Topaz._

Gilbert’s brain was a bunch of white noise, mostly consisting of the word “fuck”.

Gilbert was not known for his good decision-making. In Topaz’s words he was “Really smart, but in a dumb way.”

You know how intelligent dogs will always get themselves into enormous amounts of trouble when left unattended? Yeah. Like that.

Like almost everyone else, Gilbert had hidden himself when the stranger entered. Specifically, he’d hidden under the bed he shared with Glitter and Glint. Topaz and the man were only a couple feet away.

“Fuck it,” Gilbert thought, and launched himself, all three and a half feet of him, out from under the bed and between Topaz and the man, screaming, “GO AWAY, CREEP!” and headbutted the man in the groin. When the man tried to push him away, he latched onto his arm and bit down on it as hard as he could. Then, holding onto the man with his arms and teeth, he lifted his feet off the ground and kicked him in the legs.

“Gilbert, stop!” Topaz said, trying to pull him away, but Gilbert was hanging on as tightly as he could. Gilbert thought he could taste the man’s blood. Also, one of his teeth was loose.

The man put his other arm under Gilbert’s butt and lifted him up to eye-level. “I’m sorry for frightening you, young man,” he said very calmly and seriously, “I don’t mean any of you any harm.”

Gilbert released the man’s arm from his jaws to spit his own blood at him. He was aiming for his face, but he wasn’t very good at spitting yet, so it mostly landed on the man’s chest.

(In the background, Topaz despaired of him. She’d tried to make sure the little idiot made it to adulthood, she’d really, really tried.)

“You’re name’s Gilbert, right?” the man said, as if the whole exchange had been perfectly polite. “My name is Germania. I’m a Victor and I’m going to teach you to fight in the Games and become rich and famous.”

“No!” Gilbert yelled. He liked the idea of being rich and famous, and probably never hungry again (except for the Games, obviously) as much as the next person, but he knew a scam when he heard one.) The man ignored him, of course, and walked away, carrying Gilbert with him. Gilbert kicked and screamed and wriggled, but the Germania’s arms were like iron bars, and Gilbert wore himself out before the man even got to the office to sign the papers. His heart felt all fluttery in his chest, and he was beginning to panic with the realization that the man was really, truly taking him away. But his plan to distract the man away from Topaz had been an unprecedented success. He had, in a way, fought a grown-up and won. With this thought to bolster him, he started kicking and biting again. He stopped when they went into the office of the man in charge of the orphanage, whose name was Mr. Myning, but who Gilbert always called Mr. Meanie. Gilbert stopped struggling partly because it wasn’t polite, but mostly because his vision was starting to gray out on the edges.

“I’m taking this one,” Germania said. Gilbert wriggled weakly in protest.

“Ah…. Gilded,” Mr. Meanie said, in a way that sounded like “Why the fuck would you want _it_?”

“Gilbert,” Gilbert corrected, his breathing ragged.

“Where do I sign?” Germania asked. Mr. Meanie produced the papers, and Germania signed them, holding Gilbert in one arm.

“This is an incredible opportunity for you, Gilded,” Mr. Meanie said, “You should be grateful.”

“Fuck you,” Gilbert said.


	3. Some Conversation

The child was so light. Germania wasn’t sure what children should weigh, but he was sure that they shouldn’t be this light. He put the boy down after he finalized the adoption, and the kid didn’t bolt, so Germania took that as a win. 

“How old are you?” Germania asked. It probably said somewhere in his papers, but Germania hadn’t actually read them.

“Seven,” the boy said. Germania had no frame of reference, but he thought seven-year-olds were supposed to be bigger.

“Here,” Germania said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a granola bar. Gilbert took it and examined the packaging suspiciously like he suspected Germania had poisoned it somehow. Apparently satisfied, he carefully tore it open.

“Don’t eat too quickly,” Germania warned. The kid gave him a look that said, “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Gilbert ate very slowly as they walked, as if to savor it forever, not wasting a single crumb.

“What’s a granola?” Gilbert asked once he had finished it.

“It’s oats, mostly,” Germania, “I think that one had raisins.”

“Yes,” Gilbert said, “I read the ingredients.” He pronounced “ingredients” like “ingrehdients”, as if he had never actually heard anyone say it out loud before, “It has oats and corn syrup and a bunch of other stuff and raisins. But what’s it for?”

“Eating,” Germania said.

“Obviously, you big idiot, but _why_? Who eats it? I’ve never seen one before.”

“It’s a Capitol thing, I think,” Germania said, “Rich people food.”

“Are you a rich people?”

“Yes.”

“I thought rich people ate everything on fancy plates that break if you sneeze on them.”

“Yes, but sometimes we just want a snack, or we’re too busy to have a sit-down meal.”

“You’re too lazy to _sit down?”_ Gilbert said.

Germania sighed. “You’re really not afraid of me, are you?” he said. Not that Germania was complaining, but it was fascinating, and entirely inexplicable.

Gilbert shrugged his tiny shoulders, “What’d be the point?” he asked, with a defeated sort of world-weariness that caught Germania off guard, and made him suddenly want to go back and throttle the man who ran the orphanage.

“Besides,” Gilbert added smuggly, “I’m not the one who’s bleeding.”

Germania glanced at his arm. Technically he wasn’t bleeding anymore, but the small round mark of a child’s teeth was still very visible, and dried blood flaked on his skin.

There was a little motel in the town. The town itself existed because it was half-way between The Mine (which was where the factory was and all the artisans worked, and was really the capital city of One, but wasn’t called that, obviously, because districts don’t have capitals, or cities) and the Upper Mine Settlement, which was important even though it was one of the least useful of the gem mines dotted across One, because it was where the horses for the Capitol were bred.

Of course, if anyone _really_ important wanted to go to the Upper Mine Settlement, this little motel wouldn’t matter, because they would just make the journey in an hour by car.

Still, though, the establishment was made for One’s wealthier citizens. It had four large rooms that were clean and well lit, each with its own television and even a small refrigerator. The beds had soft, Capitol style mattresses, blankets, sheets and pillows, and the rooms were decorated in bright colors with paintings depicting One’s majestic natural landscape and the many beautiful things unearthed there. And it cost a fortune to spend a night there.

“Do you live here?” Gilbert asked, staring around the room with two twin beds and a window facing the mountains, his eyes wide with awe.

“No,” Germania said, “We’re just staying here for the night. You can pick the bed you want.”

Gilbert’s mouth opened in an o. He looked at the beds, then he looked at Germania, then back at the beds again. He stared intently at Germania’s face as if looking for a sign, and Germania stared blankly at the nightstand between the two beds. Germania got the distinct impression that no adult had offered Gilbert a choice before.

“I want that one,” Gilbert said, pointing to the bed closer to the door and away from the window, with the attitude of someone very deliberately springing a trap.

“Cool,” Germania said, and flopped down onto the other bed. Gilbert narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, then climbed up onto his own bed. He bounced experimentally.

“What’s this made out of?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Germania said, “There’s springs inside.”

Gilbert stood on the bed and jumped. Germania considered the likelihood that the kid would fall off the bed and break his head open on the wood floor. He decided it was low. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eight pm. When were kids supposed to go to bed? He was pretty sure it was early.

The kid got tired of jumping on the bed in just a few seconds and sat down again.

“Where _do_ you live?” he asked.

“At The Mine,” Germania said.

“Will I live there?” Gilbert asked.

“You’ll live at The Mine, but not with me. You’ll live at the Victor’s school.”

“People live at the school?” Gilbert asked.

“It has dormitories, though a lot of kids live with their families if they’re at The Mine.”

“So it’s like an orphanage where they teach you stuff and the kids’ parents aren’t dead yet.”

Aren’t dead _yet_ , Germania thought, what a morbid way of putting it.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Gilbert yawned. He looked really tired. Kids probably were supposed to go to sleep after the sun went down, right? He turned out the light.

“That’s enough talking,” he said, “go to sleep.”


	4. In the Quiet

It was quiet in the dark.

Gilbert curled up in a ball very tight.

The bed was bigger than the beds at the orphanage, and Gilbert felt very small all by himself in the soft bigness.

The blankets were soft and big, and the pillows were soft and big, and the mattress big and soft and springy. Everything was so soft and big that Gilbert thought he was sinking down into it, like it was going to eat him. The pillow wasn’t thin and lumpy like the pillows at the orphanage, it was huge, and poofed up on either side of his head when he lay on it. You had to be very careful with baby Sparkles, because if babies sleep wrong they can suffocate and die, that’s why Topaz always slept with baby Sparkles in her bed. The pillow was so pillowy that Gilbert thought he might suffocate and die, too, if he moved his head wrong, like he couldn’t escape the pillowiness.

It was very, very quiet.

Gilbert tried to sleep, because he was tired, and sleeping was important, but every time his brain started to get drowsy, he would jerk awake, because he couldn’t hear everyone else moving and breathing and being alive. Every time he jerked awake he would be sure for a split second that the sickness had come back, and everyone else had died while he wasn’t looking.

Gilbert had never slept all alone before. He missed Glitter and Glint.

It felt cold, sleeping alone.

It wasn’t cold, because the blanket was thick and warm, and the room was so warm by itself that Gilbert didn’t even need the blanket, but it felt cold, the cold of emptiness. Lonely.

Gilbert thought about the orphanage for kids with parents. He wondered what that would be like, what the kids would be like there. He wondered what the grown-ups would be like there, if they ignored the kids, mostly, and only hurt them sometimes. They were training kids to fight in the Games, so they probably hurt them lots.

Gilbert shivered.

He tried to sleep.

He missed Topaz. He missed Silver, but he’d left a year ago.

_ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry _ , Gilbert thought.

Gilbert cried silently into his giant, fluffy pillow.

Gilbert woke up with sunlight streaming in through the window. Germania was still sleeping, so Gilbert sat very, very still.

He didn’t know what would happen if he woke Germania up.

He  _ didn’t know what would happen. _

Gilbert always knew what was going to happen, ever since he was a baby. That was the thing Gilbert did best, predicting things. Gilbert was the one who found things out. He was the one who had figured out how to break into Mr. Meanie’s office again after he changed the lock, and he was the one who learned how to read, and he was the one who found out how to climb up onto the roof, which was really useful, because Mr. Meanie didn’t know they could get up there, and you could see really far without anyone seeing you. Mr. Meanie was easy to predict, and so was the school teacher, who was nice as long as he could pretend you weren’t there (he was scared of Mr. Meanie).

But Gilbert didn’t know anything about Germania.

Germania had given Gilbert fancy rich person food that was sweet as candy, almost, when it wasn’t even mealtime. He let Gilbert sleep in his own fancy bed. Nothing about him made any sense. Gilbert was a brat on purpose and he didn’t even slap him  _ once. _

Gilbert kept asking him questions. If you asked Mr. Meanie a question, that was very, very bad. He called you impertinent, and said you weren’t allowed to eat anything at the next mealtime, and if he was feeling annoyed he might kick you or throw something at you. (Getting meal privileges taken away was the worst, because Topaz would try to sneak food to you, and if she got caught  _ she’d  _ be in big trouble too). But Germania had just answered all the questions. He didn’t seem like he liked answering questions, but he hadn’t gotten mad either. Even the older kids got annoyed if you asked questions at them all day, especially if they didn’t know the answer. “Go away,” they’d say, “Can’t you find something interesting to do?” and then immediately afterward, “ _ Gilbert! _ Get down from there!  _ Holy shit,  _ you’ll get yourself  _ killed!”. _

But Germania hadn’t done anything. Not even when Gilbert called him a big idiot, and grown-ups  _ hated _ it when you acted smarter than them, even if it was by accident. Gilbert wondered if Germania was just saving up all his anger, just adding up every bad thing Gilbert into a big pile for later until… Until…

Gilbert didn’t know  _ what  _ would happen.

There were rules in life and if you followed them, you were at least mostly, sort of safe. And Gilbert had spent most of his life breaking the rules, because safety’s for cowards, and also you broke some of the rules just by existing. But he always knew how far he could push it, mostly, and he always knew what would happen. But now all the rules were going to be different, and he  _ tried _ to figure out what they were, but Germania was just a tall, blank faced nothing.

Germania had let Gilbert  _ choose which bed to sleep in _ .

And Gilbert had tried to choose wrong, even though he still didn’t know anything about Germania so he had no idea how to tell which bed he wanted. So he tried to choose wrong, but then Germania just accepted it, and he didn’t even act happy about it like Gilbert had accidentally chosen right. Gilbert  _ still didn’t know. _

It was like if you fell off a cliff, and instead of going splat immediately, you just kept falling and falling and falling and falling, and you knew the longer you kept falling, the harder the ground would be in the end, but you just never  _ stopped _ .

What would happen?

Germania had been in the games. Did he miss killing people?

Gilbert sat on the bed and hugged his knees and he stayed absolutely quiet as the sun slowly got brighter in the sky. He was half certain that Germania would wake up if he breathed. He was half certain that Germania had spent all day yesterday letting Gilbert get away with asking questions and choosing the better bed and even  _ jumping _ on it, which was almost definitely not allowed, just so that he could be angrier with him in the morning.

Gilbert knew he was just getting himself more and more scared, and that that was a very silly thing to do. “You think too much, Gilbert, that’s your problem,” Topaz said. Used to say. “You think too much and then you get yourself into trouble. Can’t you leave the thinking to me, and just worry about not annoying people who’ll hurt you?”

But Gilbert never listened, because he couldn’t help thinking, and he had to help when he saw the opportunity, sometimes his helping was even helpful.

He was the best at remembering things, and he was the only one who ran away to listen under the window of the school enough to learn to read, and he was the one that Silver had given the doctor’s phone number. That had mostly been because Gilbert was the one who was there when Silver went away, but still, Gilbert was the best at remembering. Every single morning since then, Gilbert had recited the number to Topaz to remind her. He couldn’t recite it to her now. What if she forgot? What if the sickness came back and Topaz got it real bad and nobody else knew the number or knew how to break into Mr. Meanie’s office?

That’s when Germania did wake up, so Gilbert grinned real big and said, “Wow, you slept in  _ forever.” _

Never, ever, ever show you’re scared, that was Gilbert’s rule. Don’t show you’re scared, cause it never helps anything, all it does is make mean people happy and nice people sad.


End file.
